To the Death
by Forest Archer
Summary: In the aftermath of "The Accused", Aramis struggles to come to terms with the consequences of what he's done, and what still might happen to the people he loves.


Constance is screaming for d'Artagnan, and there is nothing Aramis can do. The shackles scrape against his wrists until the skin is raw but he cannot get himself free, cannot see out of the window, can only stand and strain and try to ignore the silence that is beyond Constance's voice, because d'Artagnan is not shouting any more.

Bile rises like hot acid in his throat. He pulls against the chains again just for the sake of the sound, because he knows it's hopeless - they are solid, and beyond, there are still the prison bars.

Has he condemned them all?

No, he must not think of it - instead he thinks of Rochefort, and lets fury and hatred overtake his fear. He will kill the man, next time he sees him - kill him even if it is the death of him too, because this is all his doing, even if it is possible only because of Aramis. Even the cardinal - the thought is bitter and ridiculous - but even the cardinal would not have pushed so far. He had wanted only to control the king, not to become king, which must be what Rochefort in his madness thinks he can achieve.

The urge to kill Rochefort back there in the palace had almost overwhelmed him. If his life alone had been at stake, he knows what he would have done. But he had been painfully conscious that he was not the only musketeer in the room. Athos, d'Artagnan and Treville - separated from him by a wall of red guards, he had known they'd be ready to fight to the death to protect him, to get him out of there.

But to the death he could not allow. He had surrendered without striking a blow - because if he struck his friends would fight, and for all their strength and courage, against so many, they would have fallen.

They still might. Hatred tumbles away again as fear rises, sharp and unbearable, and the sound of metal on stone echoes as he falls to his knees, strength suddenly gone. Constance is crying, still calling out for a man who is not answering, and Aramis has never been this afraid.

When it happened, that night, with Anne - if he had thought of danger at all, it would only have been his own. He would have thought that Anne was safe, for who would believe treason of the queen, and his brothers would never know of what had happened and could not be considered culpable. He had never considered that there might be a child, and he had never imagined that it would come to this.

If surrendering is all he can do to protect them, then he will not fight Rochefort. He's been trying to pretend he can get justice for what Rochefort's done, but the thought has been there all along, and he admits it now reluctantly. For Anne's sake, he wants the man dead. She will never be safe until she is free of him, and neither will her son.

Their son.

His child.

But they are not his family. The musketeers are. He is torn in two by duty - not the duty of the musketeer regiment, exactly, but the duty of his heart, and both the directions it pulls him in. He could take his chance to kill Rochefort before he dies.

He could. But at what cost?

His friends are in terrible danger anyway. He has got them into this, and there is nothing he can do about it now, not from here. He has trusted them all with his life so many times, and he has failed them in return. His actions should never have caused them suffering, and this is his greatest crime. Rochefort may still turn on them all, may try to destroy the regiment. Or the swifter outcome that is altogether too likely is that they will die in the effort to save the queen. But it is not, yet, personal.

If he moves against Rochefort and fails, it will be. Rochefort will have the shadow of an excuse he needs to kill them all. _Aramis will have proven his guilt _(not that it matters much now, he's sure to be executed anyway),_ there is treason among the musketeers, we must round up his closest compatriots, for they are surely traitors too..._

He cannot take the risk. If all he can do now is to do nothing, to allow himself to be killed, he will do it. He knows they will do all they can to protect her.

Anne said she could never regret that night, no matter the outcome. The words warmed him, and he will take what comfort from them that he can - that it meant something, that it was love, that he was not dying for something she wished had not happened. And yet, can he say the same? He loves her, that is certain, he knows it with all his heart. But she is not the only person he loves, not the only person he would move the world to protect. And loving her might have damned the rest of them.

D'Artagnan might be dying. Porthos has gone into unknown danger. He doesn't even know where Athos and Treville are. And Anne is still in danger, the son he cannot let himself love is vulnerable to a madman, and the king he swore to protect could already be dead. He has failed so utterly that he does not know what to do.

Here and now, something has changed, and for a moment he cannot place it. He raises his head, and looks across the corridor, through two sets of bars.

Constance has stopped shouting. She is staggering back, her face pale and shining with tears. She has seen a friend be executed today, watched the man she loves be attacked trying to reach her, and she has been told she is going to die.

"Constance, I'm sorry." The words burst out without him needing to think them. He pushes himself forward as far as the chains will allow, reaching for the bars as though he could take her hand. "I am so sorry."

She makes it to her bars before she sinks to the floor. He has never seen such desolation on her face before, but even in her weakness she has courage.

"This is not your fault, Aramis. Well, some of it is," she amends, with something like her old sharpness, but neither of them can quite bring themselves to smile. She sighs, looking again towards the window as though she cannot help it. "But I know you didn't mean for this. You couldn't have known what Rochefort was capable of."

How has he ever been worth the people he has known? Where there should be only anger he has found so much understanding, even when he cannot quite understand it all himself.

"He'll be alright," Aramis says, and to find the conviction that might reassure her he forces himself to think not of d'Artagnan beaten and helpless but tough, the lad who had become a brother since the day he'd trusted them just enough to save Athos' life, the man who so short a time ago had scolded Aramis for what he'd done. "This may not be exactly comforting, but he's survived worse."

"It's not comforting, no." Her voice is reproving, but not angry. It's lost. She settles her back against the wall, hugs her legs to her chest, and falls silent.

What can he say? There is so much fear and guilt that he doesn't know how to express, so much regret. Perhaps not for that night, he doesn't know - but for what has become of it, he will feel the regret of that until he dies and probably beyond. Will Constance die because he wanted to protect Anne? The indecision and hopelessness consume him until Constance speaks again.

"Don't cry, Aramis, please."

A touch to his cheek, and his fingertips come away wet. He hadn't even realised.

Across the corridor, though, Constance is still crying too, but she stands up all the same. "We're not going to die like this," she says, and in that moment he realises how many different kinds of strength there are. Because she doesn't think there's a way out of this either, but she is on her feet nonetheless.

"Even if we can't do anything about what happens, we still get to choose how we die. I can't say I'm not going to be scared, and maybe there's nothing wrong with that. But I won't let him beat me, all the same. And I won't let him beat you. I forgive you, Aramis. I'd slap you if I could, but I forgive you. I won't lose hope, not ever. But if I die first, and you get the chance, you tell d'Artagnan that I am always going to love him. Tell him that he's not to forget that, no matter what. I'd have loved him for a lifetime."

Aramis finds that he has never respected anyone more than in this moment, and he cannot reply. There is nothing he can say to comfort her - no strength he can offer that she does not already have, no solution he can suggest that does not seem hollow.

He's not given up. Musketeers don't know how, he thinks wryly, and doesn't that just sum them up? If the chance comes, he will fight - he'll give everything he has to protect the people he loves, because they all deserve so much more than this end. He wants to get Constance back to d'Artagnan, have them live safe somewhere together; he can imagine them raising mischievous little children, taught to fight by both their parents, but growing also to be as loyal and loving and kind as those parents have always been. Porthos and Athos - their lives, he thinks, will always be in the musketeers, more certain than d'Artagnan, but he lets himself imagine Porthos finding a woman like Alice who might be worth leaving it all behind for, because Porthos deserves to be loved by someone who sees that his real strength is his heart. Athos has always been so hard to judge, but Aramis would have him be happy, whether that means fighting or finding Ninon or even forging some new life with Milady; Aramis remains wary of that last choice, but if he is going to believe in a future for them, he will believe Athos can find peace.

And Anne, and the child... When he lets himself, he finds it is not quite as painful as he thought to imagine them in the arms of the king, because it is there and there alone that they can be safe, that Anne can smile and the Dauphin can grow. They would find no safety or prosperity with him, and it is their happiness that he wants to see.

While there is a chance for those futures, he'll fight for them, and he tries to cling to that determination. But deep in his heart, in thoughts that send dark poison into his hope, he thinks that it might already be too late.

The prison is dark, the chains are strong, and Aramis doesn't know how to fix what he's done.


End file.
